You Can't Fix It
by MyEyesAreOpenWide
Summary: Maya Hart being pushed to put her art in an art gallery was one of the greatest things Lucas Friar had ever forced her to do. But his desire to try and fix her life's problems just wasn't going to work. Because she didn't need him to fix her problems, all she needed was for him to give her a reason to live past them. Lucaya.


**Hello everyone, and welcome to this Lucaya Free-Write entitled You Can't Fix It! For those unaware of what a free-write is to me, a free-write is essentially a one-shot. However, there has been no prior planning gone into it. I have written it from start to finish without stopping and adding anything that came into my head. I only stopped when I felt I had reached the end of where I could go. I also don't like to edit my free-writes, so this is my rawest writing, as it were. However, this isn't really my usual style. I don't know why, but I decided to try something different than usual, and I think it works okay, but not brilliant. So the technical styling might not be amazing, and for that, I do apologise. That being said, I hope you enjoy anyway!**

* * *

She knows it gets under his skin when he can't make her problems go away.

They'd been at the art hall, the moon and stars shimmering brightly (just like she was tonight, he would remind her, and she _might_ blush a little bit). It had been packed, a variety of people of all different shapes and sizes meandering around and speaking in hushed voices at all the artistic works.

But they were mostly all there to see hers.

* * *

He'd pushed her to submit her stuff, demanded she did with that passionate look he got in those green eyes of his. And she'd tried to fight him, tried to distract him with kisses and tickets to a baseball game and _anything_ to take his mind off it. But he wouldn't, because he was stubborn, and once he got Riley in on it, well, she didn't really have a choice.

So she did. She filled out an application (it had taken her two days, with multiple excuses as to why she hadn't done it. It was only when Farkle had sat down with her and downright forced her to do it, that she had) and sent it out.

And then the nerves had set in.

They were like termites, gnawing on her well-being and mood as if it was a piece of wood. She tried to force them down, tried to get them to subside, but they swarmed up into her throat and her heart and made her itch. She couldn't take this.

But he held her close and whispered things in her ear and promised that whatever happened he still loved her.

* * *

And then she had gotten accepted.

And the tears had fallen from her eyes because she was Maya Hart, the urchin, the girl that _never_ got accepted. But she had, and she wasted no time in leaping into his arms and wrapping her around his neck and kissing him with a pleasing ferocity because she had finally done it. That night they had celebrated with takeaway and a re-watching of Mean Girls and snuggles and maybe something else that they weren't going to talk about with anyone else.

* * *

But now she had to pick out her pieces of art, and Lucas, with his charming smile and handsome face, had asked her mother to help her. She didn't want her mother's help, didn't need her mother's help, as she had angrily told him later that day when he came home. It was _her_ thing, and not something her mother could intrude on and ruin like _everything_ else. But he just stared at her for a few moments with a warm smile, and she felt all of her feelings towards the situation melt away, and he said he was sorry and she said she could forgive him if he made her banoffee pie and with a laugh he had.

And then surprise came. Because her mother had come around the next day, wearing her waitress uniform and she was all smiles and pulled Maya into a hug and tugged at her hand to show her the work she had made. And when Maya had showed her, tentatively and not without nerves bubbling in her stomach, her heart swelled when her mother had showered not only the art, but _her_ with enough praise to make her want to cry.

But she didn't cry, she hadn't cried over her mother in a long time. Instead they had hugged, one of the few times they ever had, and Maya tried not to enjoy the feeling of warmth that enveloped her heart or the feeling of love spreading around her body.

* * *

Lucas had gotten annoyed with her the next day when she had said it had been nice with her mother. He'd flashed her that smile of his as they had their usual coffee date, and announced that maybe this would be the start of a change. And it was her turn to flash a smile, but this one was jaded and hollow. And she explained how it wouldn't, this was a one-off thing and he would need to learn to understand that. Most others had, and she was glad for it.

But he wouldn't let it go, and said that he would make sure that her mother came to the opening night of the exhibition.

And she had smiled at him, not because she was happy, but because that was all she could do at the time.

* * *

And everyone had come. She'd been greeted at the door by Riley giving her the biggest, most voluptuous hug she had ever received from her, and constant gushing about how proud she was and how she knew from the day they met that Maya Hart was destined for great things. This tugged at her own heart, and she felt her eyes become watery but she rubbed at them slightly because she was _not_ going to cry.

But then Farkle came and said he had a gift for her, and handed her the same drawing she had given him all those years ago in seventh grade, and at that point maybe she had cried a little bit.

And then The Matthews came and then they enveloped her in a hug and told her that, just like Riley, they had always known from the very beginning she was destined for greatness. And they had told her how proud they were of her, and that she was their other daughter, no matter what she thought about it.

And then _he_ had appeared. Shawn Hunter had arrived and she had run to him like a little girl and leapt into his arms and then she had cried a lot because she hadn't seen him for over a year and he was here and it was special and she loved him. And he had rubbed her back and lightly pulled her off him, and then looked at her with such _pride_ in his eyes before telling her that he was so, so proud of her.

* * *

Lucas had waited. And she knew he was waiting, but he didn't acknowledge it. Instead she joked and laughed and hugged and spoke with as many people as she could, fellow artists from college, others who actually wanted to _show_ her work, and even just the people who had come to view the art. But he had walked around with her, all smiles, but every once in a while he would survey the area and his smile would slip.

And on that night, she hadn't come.

* * *

Lucas was livid when they got home. He stormed around their apartment, ranting and raving and swearing. Maya just watched him, sadly, as if _he_ was the one who was being hurt. She wasn't angry with him, and she couldn't even find it within herself to be angry at her anymore. All she could do was watch as he yelled that she had promised, she had promised to be there for her daughter and she wasn't and it wasn't fair on Maya or anyone or anything!

And then she had walked over as he had sat down on the couch to simmer with his rage, and placed herself next to him.

And she asked why he was so worked up about this, and he had turned to her like she had grown a second head, before calming down enough to admit that all he wanted to do was make her problems go away so she could be happy.

Maya had then simply smiled, and leant in close to breath his scent that made her feel comfortable and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead. And she said that he couldn't make all of her problems go away, nobody could.

And he had tried to protest, but she had cut him off with a kiss that tasted of strawberries and the country, before saying that he made her remember the good in life rather than the bad.

She said that her problems with her mother were always going to be there, hiding in the closet or under her bed just waiting to leap out and grab her. And some days they would, but when she was close to him and held him in her arms and tasted his lips and laughed even now at his love of his home-state, she thought all about the good things in life, and reminded that her that she had to live through the bad to get to what she had with him, then she would.

And that made him the most important person in the world.

* * *

**And there we go! I had a lot of fun with this free-write, so much so that I might end up re-writing it at some point with proper planning and making it a lot longer. It's a possibility, as I have a lot of other stuff I do want to write, but we'll see what happens. In any case, I hope you enjoyed, and have a great morning/afternoon/evening/night!**


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